


Steady Dream

by ChroniclyFlaming



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChroniclyFlaming/pseuds/ChroniclyFlaming
Summary: Juuhachigou decides to go out with her newly found freedom and find a purpose. Or something like that anyway.





	Steady Dream

**Author's Note:**

> If you act gently, nothing can compare  
> I am me, as you are you  
> It's a century too late to be honest  
> How on earth could you say you like me?
> 
> You idiot... this is bothering me  
> Because I get no thanks from you
> 
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> \--You won't make this steady dream come true--  
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> \--Thank you, I want to be near you always--
> 
> When we're together you do whatever you want  
> Tomorrow is tomorrow, as the wind blows  
> Not slightly or softly, you can't be serious  
> It's so hot that I can never relax
> 
> You idiot, don't stare like that  
> Seems like the happiness is killing you
> 
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> \--I seem to care for this dream for two--  
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> \--Thank you, I want to gaze at you always--
> 
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> Hold on! The rest is silence...  
> \--あとはＳｉｌｅｎｃｅ...（クリリン＆18号）
> 
>  
> 
> I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
> 
> From Eden, Hozier

The man before her, this small human, wore only bandages, a loose hospital gown, and host of dark bruises. They had wiped his face clean of dried blood and given him ice for the bruises, pills for the pain, but the marks of his failure were still there.

The strongest pure-blooded human on the planet, supposedly. This, _this,_ was the best the human could produce? A trained fighter since boyhood, exact date so helpfully provided to be pushed aside with a snarling _shut up,_ a man who had tried his best to keep up with Son Goku and always fell _short._ A cautious when not heedlessly over-cocky (or so Gero’s report’s read), reasonable, fundamentally decent man.

She bared her teeth. And still weak over some girl _smiling_ at him.

He was such an idiot.

And so was Juuhachigou for watching the entire match.

She was such a _moron,_ for sitting there and watching that channel as though begging to see that group again. For putting aside her drink and the bowl of popcorn and leaning _forward_ when she saw that particular shade of garish dark orange, and then that bright shiny empty head. For laughing when seeing the tumbling line of fighters falling from the uneven pedestal, one trying to find purchase on his smooth idiot head and failing, and to scoff at the ever-serious Piccolo deciding he’d had enough of this foolishness and left the entire tournament after saving the overeager human from himself. For letting her face twist into a scowl as the small man let his guard down for the sake of some alien woman with a flood of curly orange hair. And then, for punching her twin in the arm hard enough to wince when he finally said something.

She had quite a list of things to be ashamed of over the last sixty-three hours. And topping that list was showing up here to…what? Check up on him? The man was fine. He had his friends, medical personal on hand, and if his injuries had been more extensive he would have been given a senzu bean. What was another beating for him?

For a moment, she felt the bowl of popcorn pressed against her stomach as she leaned forward on the lumpy couch. His startled expression, the creeping blush and refusal to ‘be tempted…’ and while he understood she might be drawn to such a powerful martial artist that had even defeated Piccolo—but he had _eyes for another_. The clean-shaved jaw tight with conviction and voice far too loud, standing as tall as he could manage for his convictions. And then had come the first blow to his neck.

She could have applauded such a move, even as she was aware of her sudden silence and _disgusting_ relief when she saw him lift his stupid, stupid head and make some foolish quip about letting her down easy.

She had not cheered for him, not through the screen, and would not have said a single word of encouragement had she been there in person either. And she resented complete that she was _glad_ the useless gnat had survived. Look at him. Still _breathing,_ the little fool.

Juuhachigou wanted to overturn his bed and strangle him with a sheet. She wanted to shove a senzu bean down his throat and watch him choke on it and wretch his broken arm out of it’s socket with a solemn whisper to that cheek with its Band-Aid so neatly pressed, ‘How do you like…being _helped_?’ She hoped Krillin had suffering immensely and continued to do so. If fact, the fact that he was able to sleep at all irked her as much as she was relieved to not have him see her, not _yet_.

Juuhachigou could smell medicinal rub and antiseptic, hear the squeak of someone’s shoes three doors away and the heavy smell of air circulated but never fresh. She could count the polka dots on his hospital gown, tight around the shoulders and chest and loose everywhere else. They matched the dots on his head. It looked humiliating, strung up like that. Needles and thin gloves hanging on the walls and unflattering low white lights set into the ceilings. She waited, tense for a moment, but it didn’t stir up any past memories. So why stay here?

The walls were dark purple and the curtains separating beds a foul shade of olive green. But Krillin was alone here, Goku’s son and the odd boy (Trunks?) with the long lilac hair had gone home just this afternoon. All of his friends had left him behind here, with only a (mocking?) gesture of Get Well Cards and a stuffed turtle.

They were alone together, and the cyborg decided that was alright with her. She stood there, a woman of average height with recently cropped blonde hair trimmed to her shoulder, in striped sleeves and a black top, jeans and new ankle-high boots. Juuhachigou smiled and eyed the gloves, the needles hanging in a bin on the walls.

She could leave, right now. He could never know. Her boots had left no scuff marks and there were no cameras, no marks left on the window that she’d pried open silently. No witnesses. This could be a thing to chalk up to curiosity, an odd waste of time like the hours spent flying over an ocean or watching her twin brother. Pull up a chair, and watch him with her chin resting on her palms, and spend the night this way. In rumination.

_Why_ was not an easy question, but how different was it from the ones of ‘ _what now’_?

Who was he? Who was he, to her?

More practically, should she even speak to him at all? And how to begin that conversation. Clear her throat. Lean close and take him by the throat, by the hand. She could watch eyes open, expressive, dark enough to see herself reflected back.

She had dreamed last night, a rare enough occurrence that allowed her to remember stark details. Pale eyes that shifted to red, a passionless mask that hid relentless empty rage. People ran, afraid, terrified; a monster was afoot. She had floated above the Earth, one hand outreached as she destroyed everything in her path, feeling heat and hearing the screams. Juuhachigou had awoken in darkness, unsettled. Disappointed.

I’ll just see the human this once, she decided. He did not fear her as the others did, and had even attempted to communicate with her and her brother.

“Krillin.” His name was a question, and she scowled and deepened her voice. “ _Krillin_.”

His eyes snapped open, as wide and black as ever, roaming over the room and over her. For five seconds, he looked unsurprised. Then the realization came. It was not entirely his fault for taking so long; cyborgs had no ki. Juuhachigou took a second to appreciate with width of his mouth and curve of his lips as they widened with something between wonder and terror. “ _Juuhachigou_!?”

The sheets were grabbed in one white fist, held, and then loosed.

Now he looked nervous. _Shy._

“ _Miss_ Juuhachigou. What are you doing here?” _Breathless._

Oh, oh no, for a second Juuhachigou could see how this looked. Don’t even think about it. Are you serious? You really think, for a second, that you have a chance with me? A sneer felt comfortable. “I saw your fight.”

“Oh.” His eyes were black, shadows in that round face. Nothing about Krillin had changed. “You saw that, huh?”

His gaze slipped away and escaped to his knees.

Juuhachigou wanted to scold, and harass. “Not that there was a lot to see.”

She gave a pointed stare at his bandages, lip curling. Grab him by the head in one quick jerk, and simply break his neck. She could be on him before he knew it.

“This? Oh, I’ve been through worse.” Krillin gave an elaborate shrug that stopped when he moved a muscle that should not have been moved. The grin was pained and uneven but still aimed at her. He looked worse, closer and conscious. Black wings of bruises marked his left eye, and he was lucky he didn’t have a nose or it would have been broken. A split lip and cut chin. The human had fallen hard on his left arm and no doubt it was a collection of bruises and sprains itself.

Juuhachigou did know what this looked like. Arriving here at this man’s bedside like she was concerned, like she _cared_.

His tongue ran across his lower lip, a beaten dog hiding its tail between its legs. “Yeah, it wasn’t my best moment.”

There was something loose and twitchy around his mouth. She realized that he knew that she knew about his little show.

He fumbled with a glass of water. It had to be propped against his cast.

“At least it wasn’t your right hand.”

He grabbed at that lifeline. “Yeah. It could always be worse. You know, at least Cell is still dead.”

She stared at him, face blank and composed. After long enough, Krillin glanced back down, that frustrating mix of self-abasement and embarrassment. He knew, _he knew,_ but couldn’t help it. His mouth twisted, and she could see the tension, the desperate need to say something. He was going to ruin it, whatever this was, they both knew. “So how have you been?”

Fine. Living a slow death. Meaningless. Her face remained expressionless. She did not trust herself to sneer. “Just fine.”

“Oh.” The human sipped at his water. “That’s good.”

In that bed, with the sheets tucked around him, his bandages, he looked childish. He was weak as ever. She could break his other arm as she had the Saiyan prince. She could drag him screaming and bleeding from that bed. Juuhachigou reminded herself of all that as she said, “Do you think I came to see you because I had to? Do you think I owe you something?”

“Oh, _oh_. Miss Juuhachigou, you don’t have to feel like you owe me anything. There’s no debt.” He waved a free arm in protest, and then winced.

“Of course there isn’t. And don’t start thinking there is.” She sneered as she turned to leave. She wouldn’t give him a single backwards glance. Juuhachigou could only assume he was disappointed, or angry or sad as he had been before.

I won’t need to see him again, she decided. He was a distraction, an annoyance, but that was all that was left to her anymore. Krillin was proving to be a simple enough distraction, one that could help keep her mind focused on something, _anything_ , at least temporarily. She could live for a long time, she knew. Gero had made certain of that. Juuhachigou would not age. And she no longer had the bomb inside of her, pulsing, malignant, and she wished she could feel it there, pulsing under the skin as she pressed against her artificial skin and artificial bones to find the absence.

If she was to move on, whatever that meant exactly, it would meant to leave all the few memories she had behind. Though Juuhachgiou might admit to having doubts, (and hated even more to admit any human could have such an effect) she was certain being around the man could not help her. ‘Moving on’ meant avoiding the fighters that had goggled like animals at her and her twin as the smoke cleared. Never again.

A whisper when she woke in the mornings, a thing without a face but with blue eyes: You will never be human.

Juuhachigou could sneer back when her mind cleared. Should I care? Do you want to be human? Who cares?

He doesn’t.

Idiot.

Hide back under the pillow and go to sleep. You don’t need to sleep but who was there to judge her for lying here, besides her twin and who cared for his opinion? This was a real bed, you might remind yourself. And it was you that had decided to fall unconscious.

But no, I suppose he doesn’t. The fool.

Perhaps just once more she could speak to the small runty human. Or maybe not. Maybe once had been enough to satisfy her curiosity. As unsettling as it may be, Juuhachigou could not determine her emotions, what could be her desire and wish. But then, wasn’t the decision up to her? Juuhachigou closed her eyes and decided to decide later.

She dreamed again of destroying another city, of hearing the thud of bodies falling one after another, of the splash of blood and fire, and registering that she still felt nothing, absolutely nothing and if this was _peace_ , then it was at meaningless as anything else and just as disappointing.

* * *

 

This time she wore black jeans that clung and a long sleeve white shirt. Sneakers and thick socks completed her visage, and she pushed back loose hair that she’d recently had trimmed. Juunanagou had given her a slight glance over his shoulders as she’d walked out the door, but that had been it.

Juunanagou had his own interests to preoccupy him, as mundane and boring as they might be.

Would he have been surprised that she was taking the time to see one of the men they had been programmed to exterminate? Especially the cowardly, short one that had run to them to plead for the life of Son Goku? Or would that have amused her twin, and would he instead chuckled and made a remark on her choice of companion.

This time, things seemed a little more structured, and Juuhachigou had planned her visit better. It seemed easier to have a pretext, a physical object to display before his curious black eyes. His left hand was freed of its cast. At her stare, he explained, all but beaming (at her, not his hand), “I heal fast.”

“Not fast enough.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and pulled out the container from the bag. Her plans to make a show of and therefore defuse the tension was lost somehow. The plastic clung to her fingers. It was not an apology or gift, exactly.

She recalled her first glass of water, after waking up, at some diner in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Juurokugou had hardly fit onto the stool, and Juunanagou had poured a gallon of syrup onto his waffles. She had savored the water and then the coffee, the stickiness of the maple syrup. People gave them stares and she was glad to have shed that ridiculous outfit of padded shoulders and tassels. No, more than glad, Juuhachigou had been _elated_ to be sitting in that half-empty diner in the middle of nowhere, with everything before her. She had kicked her feet even, like a girl Juuhachigou supposed she must have been at some point. She had very nearly felt guilty about not paying.

Her twin didn’t talk about those times. He didn’t want to. He didn’t even want to steal cars to go go riding, and would stare resolutely ahead when seeing vans with enough room to fit a sizeable android in the back.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” She watched him gently prying apart the chopsticks. For a moment, he looked like any other man. She toyed with the remote, the volume, the channels of the TV. A political show where men in suits sat around debating the merits of a new tax structure. A western with many stubble-faced men glared at each other and a woman in a fringed dress fainted as they reached for their pistols. Cooking? Golf? Mute it.

Krillin did his best to eat politely. She sneered. Who was he kidding? “Don’t bother on my account.”

But she would regret that when he began to inhale his food.

“You’re a pig,” she told him, colorless.

He gulped loudly. “As a man that has actually lived with a pig, I take offense to that.”

“That’s where you learned your bad habits from.”

He smiled around a mouthful of noodles, eyes crinkling. The swallow took forever. “Him, and Goku.”

Something briefly flashed at that name, but then it died away mercifully quick. “Your role models. And the old pervert.”

He ducked a little at that. Stirred broccoli and beef. His tone was not quite chiding. “Master Roshi’s a little more than some dirty old man.”

“I’m sure.” She gave a half-hearted sneer. Krillin was easy to be annoyed by, but it could not last; he was too pathetic. The cyborg decided to move closer, wanting to see pink appear on that face, something besides the careful measured look. Krillin was a little taller when you sat by him. _Solid._ He stole annoying little glances at the distance between them, at her hands, at her legs.

“I’ve actually been eating less, I’ll have you know. No need, now that…now that the fighting’s over.”

These people could not go long with any peace. “Since when is it over? You were just put into traction.”

“Well. After this.” His cheeks puffed and went concave from the force of his exhalation. “Yeah, I think my time as a fighter anyway is over. This is my formal retirement announcement.”

“I’ll make sure to inform the presses as soon as I leave.”

His laughter was low, delighted. Pleasant when low and hardly grating to the ears. She looked at his jawline and Adam’s apple visible in the light. A thrill went through her, and it was not of seeing an enemy expose weakness but something unexplained. Musculature and round cheeks. This dumb hero that had rushed out to try and fight despite everything. When Krillin leaned back, she took in the measurement of the shoulders she could break that with a few harsh blows. Then the chest you could drive a hole through in so many ways. The robe was loose around his collarbone. You could peel it away with one finger.

Appalled at herself, she decided to take in the tile floor.

The moment passed.

Krillin helped continue the conversation. “Thank you for the food, Miss Juuhachigou. It sure was a lot better than the hospital stuff.”

Juuhachigou looked at the television for lack of anything else.

He scratched at his back, face drawn with dawning confusion. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you come?”

She titled her head, narrowed her eyes. Amusement crept into her voice. “Do I need a reason?”

He turned a slight shade of pink. “N-no, I suppose not. You’re welcome anytime...If you wanted. I was just curious.”

Silence descended, thick and heavy. She looked out the window, and ignored his stare.

“So, what have you been up to?”

Juuhachigou stared at him. She had once been a woman that had brought the strongest fighters to their knees, had once hung her head out a window of a stolen pink van and laughed with the wind tugging back her bright hair as she destroyed the landscape, and had been a woman that had faced, lost, to a horrible monster. Now, her life was all the more directionless. She couldn’t not tell him that truth: the empty days spent flying around, waiting for her brother, annoying her brother and him annoying her. Mundane boredom and hours spent on a couch in a looted apartment, flipping channels on a TV and trying not to watch the clock. But no, she wouldn’t tell him any of that; let him wonder.

“Well, I’ve been not up to much myself. Like I said, trying to retire actually...not that its been working out so well...” Krillin cleared his throat. He was making an effort, just as she had. “Uh, do you want to spar? Later. When I’m better.”

How tiringly predictable. Disappointment “No.”

He tapped the chopsticks against the side of the box twice. “How come?”

“There would be no point. I am much stronger than you. What could you show me?”

“Plenty. Not that you _need_ my help.” His gaze flicked away. “But I do have some tricks.”

The little fool wanted to help his enemy. _Was_ she his enemy, still? Juuhachigou could not call him a companion. Her brother, irksome as he might be, was her only equal, the only one that could understand even as he passively sought distractions and seemed to care little about the next day and the day after that. Krillin had sensed and misread that bond. So why offer anything to Juuhachigou?

Why help her at all?

“...You could learn if you were interested...”

Krillin would act the part of some gentleman, careful and considerate. Tell me where you’ve been, how you’ve been…but underneath that was something with hopeful, watchful eyes. Madness that Juuhachigou could not _understand,_ even as she grasped its existence. In those eyes, something that went against his predetermined behavior lurked. There was that determination that the human could show in battle as well, useless and meaningless, the foolish headstrong man that had rushed out to try and fight Cell himself. There was that anticipation, senseless, one that he shouldn’t have and she didn’t deserve.

He would cut the brake lines and let them slide across the medium to crash into the oncoming traffic. He would stand there blushing while his friends looked on with disbelief, assuming too much and wanting nothing back it turned out. Juuhachigou didn’t understand it. His disappointment before that dragon, and then his small smile that grew as one wish worked successfully. _Why_? I guess it’s that...I like that girl…

She cut across his rambling with words stronger than any sword. “I’m _not_ interested.”

Pathetic and decent. Every insult, undeserved and well-earned, taken with a lowered head. And that in itself had been infuriating. She had needed to leave, to collect herself, to find her twin (and what a waste of time that had been) and understand what had happened. What could no longer happen now.

“...and why would I waste my time sparring you?” she asked.

What happens to a machine when its main programming is no longer relevant? Rely on the secondary plan. And if not, then still, rusting and waiting.

She was a huntress still, nevertheless. She could still murder much of this planet without anyone being able to stop her in time. They could not sense her. It could be quite some time before they stopped her, if she was smart about it. And what would her twin say? For some reason, she could not see Juunanagou floating besides her, hair blowing in the breeze, a smile smeared across his face as humans died beneath them. Because Juunanagou would not do it? She couldn’t say.

He was always a little disappointed when she made a move to leave, Juuhachigou realized. Though she was uncertain if that was good or bad, or what those terms could even mean in this context. Perhaps it was _better_ that he was not relieved, Juuhachigou decided. “See you later.”

* * *

 

She dreamed of him, broken and crumpled at her feet. He could never have stood a chance against her. For him to have even tried to oppose her had been pointless. Why had he even tried? Why had he tried to reason with them, these heartless machines created by Doctor Gero for the sole purpose of exterminating the human race?

She saw him faceless, eyes black and blank. Mouth open, vacuous as he lost the ability to speak as his life was dripping out of him. The cyborg could have kissed the blood that trickled from his slackening lips. The small human would look down, in confusion, as his hands touched the ruined center of himself, the black hole in his chest, and then he would look up to her, and ask why.

She saw him on his knees, begging. Cowering. Finally, Juuhachigou could see the fear in his eyes, the dreadful knowledge and understanding of _what she was_.

But then—there were nights when she could dreamed of days, sunlight and moments that were not filled with a nameless dread. There, she did not so much long for the setting sun as she relished the prospect of the following morning. The human would be there, inevitably, in a stupid shirt, seating across in a beach chair or sitting cross-legged in the sand. Or maybe sitting up in a hospital bed, eating dusty snacks from a vending machine she’d freed with one open palm slap, and she would be forced to settle for golf while he chattered about irrelevant nothings. He would wait and wait until she told him off and went away.

Juuhachigou recalled the look on her twin brother’s face, when she’d told him that Goku had seemingly sacrificed himself to spare Earth. His confusion. What had Goku been thinking? He did that? For everyone, for these _humans_? Those petty squabbling beings that couldn’t care less for the man that had died for their sake and would buy whatever lies were fed to them. Even the extraordinary ones were full of foibles could not compare to cyborgs so modified by the late Doctor Gero.

And cyborgs were rational; they wouldn’t have sacrificed themselves like that.

They were not mortal beings with such frailties and fear. Only with Cell had they ever experienced that, and that monster was dead. But the game had been changed, irreversibly. The two of them were very nearly mortal now.

He’ll get old one day, that small man. He was only human, Krillin. He would age and break and fall apart. His life was short, compared to hers, and worth what exactly? And what part of that life did he offer to her? Why should she react with anything but scorn?

The human wanted to drag her down, pull her down with whatever strength and ability he had, in those small clammy hands that he’d clutched a remote controller inside, yank her and drag her her to his level. Make her as vulnerable and weak as him. Hadn’t that been his wish, the first one.

He wanted...

Krillin could have shut her down. He could have shut her down, and then while she lay helpless, smothered under the weight of herself, eyes open and seeing. Juuhachigou could have lied there, on her back with no way to defend herself, no one to defend her, as weak as any human. She could have watched him step close, tower over her for once, with his chin set as he stretched out a hand.

Sometimes, the cyborg imagined it, the heat and eye-watering burst of ki from the human’s hand as he gathered enough energy to end her. He could have used that remote and she would not been able to stop him. She would have just laid there, waiting for him to destroy her, and felt perhaps _relief_. Juuhachigou would have certainly deserved it. That’s what anyone else would have done. It was only sensible.

But Krillin hadn’t used it now, had he.

* * *

 

“I’m going to warn you now.” If his grin got any wider, it would tumble off his face and then he’d be missing yet another appendage. His cheeks and scalp held some dark thin fuzz that was just as unsettling. Perhaps more so. Juuhachigou had seen him happy, if only in footage Gero had provided, but she had certainly never seen him with any hair whatsoever. “Tonight, they gave me some gooood stuff.”

“Why?” His smile bothered her. Krillin seemed comfortable, and she wanted fear instead. Weeks ago she had dreamed of fire and death, and nights ago she had dreamed of fighting him. Perhaps he had been defending a town she had been destroying. Either way, she could nearly feel his bones broken beneath her hands, the last desperate gasp, the sticky warmth of his blood against the tips of her fingers as they grazed skin through his torn gi and then she could no longer tell if they’d been fighting at that point. She’d awoken, unsettled, and had to remind herself, again, that she had never put a finger on him. No, she hadn’t touched him with her hands...

She had wanted to see him again, yes, Juuhachigou could admit.

Outside, summer crept in with a warm sun that hung high in the sky. People cluttered the streets, shopping, talking, walking about together. Sometimes, the cyborg would spot couples walking hand in hand and oblivious to how ridiculous they looked. Human families stuck out with their wailing children surrounded by the rest of their faster-moving ilk. Cherry blossoms threatened to stick in your hair. At night, you could make out flickers of fireflies as though the planet was besmirching you to enjoy the beauty it could offer. Well, Juuhachigou preferred autumn and had no problem shutting the windows and closing the drapes.

Still, she could be out there, in that, rather than here in a tacky hospital room.

Yet even if Juuhachigou was outside, she would still be thinking about this room, and that man right there.

She had been standing in an overpriced supermarket full of organic food and fancy capsule, wandering through the isles and noting the vegetables. The people working there had smiles and bad tropical shirts. A jar of water chestnuts had caught her eye as she pushed a flimsy cart and looked for her twin. It was all too easy to imagine Krillin there, next to her, pointing out things and wearing his own ridiculous shirt. Would he have chastened her over lingering, wandering the isles? Or would he have had the sense to make a list? What did it matter? Why had she come back to him, to sit there and _think_ about him?

If he was in a car, letting the brakes go and aiming towards traffic, wasn’t she there in the passenger seat too? Somehow.

“You know, I think they were trying to bribe me after all the experiments they were doing,” Krillin was going on about. “Hey, did you get a haircut? Do something with your hair? It looks good. Not that it didn’t _before_. It just looks a little different. Nice.”

Juuhachigou tried to pay attention, for some reason. “ _What_ experiments?”

“You know, since I was brought in under such weird conditions. They’re pretty surprised by how fast my arms is healing. Amazement all around, but kind of a _spooked_ amazement.”

She stepped closer, slowly. This was entirely new ground. Krillin was _always_ unexpected, enough. “I see. Is that where you got that hair from?”

He ran a hand across his scalp, and then his cheek. “Ah. I probably look ridiculous, but they wouldn’t let me shave...I think they were worried I would cut myself. It’s very professional here. Sometimes.”

His grin was too ingratiating. You got the feeling he wanted to nudge you with a raised brow. “You should have seen the nurses flirting with Trunks.”

Trunks was...the purple-haired mystery one, Juuhachigou assumed safely. She raised an eyebrow in response. Krillin gave an eye roll, but his tone was too lighthearted. “You know, he’s got the brooding handsome thing going on. Not that he doesn’t have a reason to brood...still, he pulls it off.”

But not that sword. Oh, no, Juuhachigou had made sure he had broken that when he had brought it out.

“Why are you smiling like that?” His own smile was relaxed now. “Are you remembering beating him up, Juuhachigou?”

She smiled, thinly, caught.

Then he laughed. “I guess maybe it was funny. From your perspective. Everyone wanting to fight you, and you just taking them down, one by one...”

It _had_ been.

Had there been a mirror, Juuhachigou might have seen the unexpected gleam in her eyes. Or perhaps not. “I think I like this loopy Krillin.”

“Well I think Loopy Krillin likes you too.”

Juuhachigou felt emotion twitching the corners of her mouth further. “Good to know.”

“You already knew that though.” That tremendous grin shrunk and grew a little _smirky_. His eyes became lidded. She looked down and saw cracks forming under the ice. “You even saw me in that fight, when I said that stuff.”

“Yes.” She was standing there above the cracking ice, and it would just _ruin_ this jacket if she fell in, and frankly, escaping her brother for the silence of the arctic tundra was overrated. The melting snow might muss her hair as well. It was time to leave.

What was _that_ look? “At least you didn’t hear me going on to Master Roshi about you.”

“What _about_ me?” Juuhachigou was just full of questions today, and she didn’t want the answers. For some reason, her stomach muscles felt tight and she wanted to shift in her seat.

“About how _terrifying_ it was to think about the adorable habit of pushing your hair out of your eyes. The confident way you beat the hell out of all my friends. Your brutally beautiful piercing blue eyes, and I’ve dug quite a hole for myself haven’t I.” His laughter was frank for the first time.

She sat back, heat behind her ears, in her neck. She should drive a fist into his face and left him bleeding and senseless. “I would have thought you’d learn your lesson on flirting with women stronger than you.” Juuhachigou gave a pointed stare.

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” His voice was much too high.

“Oh, sure you weren’t.” She _didn’t_ care.

Krillin looked away, now the blush coming out. “I, uh, pointedly was not interested in her.”

“She must have been so disappointed. No wonder she hit you.” Her tone was dry, safe.

“I’ve had worse.” He pointed to his stomach, solemn as a child. “This is where Frieza got me.”

“He ‘got’ you?” Juuhachigou questioned. Gero had not provided any details to Namek. All she’d gotten was information that might be considered _third-hand_ at this point, conjecture and words spoken by the others about the trip off Earth. “Where?”

He looked up, eyes round. He looked small on that bed. “My chest. I nearly died.”

She crept closer. “Where? If it’s that bad, shouldn’t it have left a mark?”

“Oh, uh, ok.” He pushed down the blanket at her command and lifted the hospital gown. “If you’re really so curious. I’m not _lying_.”

There was maybe some faint mark to the bottom right of his sternum. Roughly the size of a clenched fist, old and faded. She took that in, before her eyes moved onto to the rest of his chest and stomach. Blindingly pale, smooth, dimpled and she hadn’t needed to see this, not really. Juuhachigou told herself he didn’t notice and (she didn’t notice either for that matter) how much warmer the room felt.

“Right here, with his horn. Now _he_ was a monster.” Krillin was looking back at her. Something serious there on his face, something warm in his eyes that made her glance away.

Not like you.

“Do you really think you know what monsters are?” Juuhachigou asked.

“Sometimes. Sometimes, I do.” His stare met hers, unblinking, serious. Juuhachigou had only seen him in this state as he faced her, armed with a device that could have allowed him to beat her.

She dropped her gaze. “Then you would have used that remote.”

“I _wouldn’t_ have used that thing.” Krillin sounded sure of himself, none of the hesitation and doubt that usually marked their conversations. “I know what you were already.”

Something lashed across her chest. Do you? Do you _really_? “What is that?”

His shrug was too casual. “Human.”

“And how did you know that?”

He was unafraid, Krillin. Because of how you look. Because he thought she was _pretty_. Because she had _teased_ him. Because of her face or something far worse. “Your eyes.”

She blinked those eyes and leaned back, unaware that she had been leaning _forward_. She had blue eyes. So did others. They were pale, and pretty enough Juuhachigou might agree, and unsettling when focused solely on a person, say a salesperson insisting that she’d taken too many clothes into the fitting room or a faltering warrior that was beginning to understand what a mistake they had made.

Krillin smiled in response, and leaned forward. He had a pleasant smile, open and disarming. Juuhachigou had only seen it in person twice. “They’re _different_. They were always more expressive.”

The cyborg felt a thrum of discomfort, and wanted to fidget for the first time since perhaps becoming a cyborg. He thought he saw something, and what was truly disturbing was that she did not dismiss out of hand. She did not _want_ to dismiss.

“I never thought you were a machine. You were always--” He was fumbling. “You.”

What did that mean, for her? For him? Normal-looking? Pretty? She sneered. _I like that girl, you guys._

“ _Amazing_.”

Her mouth snapped shut. “Excuse me?”

“You’re incredible, Miss Juuhachigou. I mean, you’re so strong and confident and...” He trailed off, one hand held to his cheek as though to pull the foot out of his mouth. “The most amazing person I’ve met.”

“Maybe I am flirting.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I can never think of a good line...”

She gave him a stare, unsure if her expression should be hard or curious.

His lips were split in a loose smile. _Hopeful_. Dangerous. His eyes were crinkling. “If you had a twin, I’d still choose you.”

She rolled her (supposed) expressive blue human eyes. “ _Awful_.”

“It is pretty crazy,” Krillin agreed cheerfully. “But everything around here is, and sometimes the best things are crazy and unexpected.”

She remained silent.

“I mean, my best friend is an alien...from a race that turns into a giant monkey at every full moon. I’ve been to space.” His uninjured hand was clenched into a fist. “I’ve seen people come back from the dead. Including _me_.

“I’ve died _twice_. I—we both nearly just died a little while ago. Life’s too short. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…but maybe.” The man looked up, into her eyes, not minding her expression, whatever it was. It could not have been good. Or encouraging. “Maybe when I get out of here, we could go out somewhere. You know. To dinner? Or wherever. I know plenty of places in West City, when I was out with Bulma and Yamcha and that one time with Vegeta. We could go to a club. Karaoke.”

“What? You think that you—that we can--” She fumbled with the words, her tongue suddenly thick and brain numb. “Do something like that.”

A club. _Karaoke_. Ridiculous _._ She shouldn’t have even come here. And never mind that she had recently gotten her hair trimmed and was slightly pleased that he’d noticed (her twin hadn’t). Why was she here? Why waste her time, on the ridiculous coward, this _human._

He stared back at her. “Why not?”

Because you’re weak. Because you’re pathetic. Because you wasted a wish to make my life better, you idiot, what were you thinking? How could you not have used the remote? How can you…

Krillin was continuing on, “Once Bulma talked Vegeta into going out with us to a bar. And he didn’t even start a fight. So anything’s _possible_. Of course, maybe you’d rather do something else? I’m open to suggestions.” He was still smiling.

“I’m not human,” she said.

She didn’t need this, or him. Even as he offered.

The small man was taken aback. His small recoil that gave an extra emphasis to when he leaned forward. “I don’t care if you’re...not entirely human. I know you feel things, just like everyone else. I know you’re capable, and deserving of everything any other person is. Like...”

The blonde woman sneered. “Does that mean I should feel lucky to be blessed by your presence? Because _you_ take pity on me?”

“No. Oh no. Of course not. I don’t pity you, Miss Juuhachigou. I just meant...if you wanted.” His grin was a little sickly, an attempt. “It would give you a chance to see me in a suit?”

Juuhachigou nearly laughed. “You should know, Gero did provide certain images and movies of your life.”

“Oh. Oh no.” One of his hands actually rose to touch his lips in concern, dark eyes round.

She crossed her arms. “So I have seen you in that white suit already...”

“Ah. No reason to go out with me then.” Had he been able to sniff, Krillin would have done so.

The cyborg agreed. ‘Dating’ would be absurd. “No, there isn’t.”

He swallowed. “Do you think we could be friends then, Miss Juuhachigou?”

This would be the last time she saw him. Never again. It was best to nip this curiosity in the bud. For both their sake, since she was quite capable of being magnanimous, no matter what her brother might say. What did he have to teach? And why _him_ , of all creatures, was she wasting her energy interacting with? Not that she didn’t have unlimited energy…

She glanced at her fingernails. “I doubt it.”

“Why?”

She met his gaze. “I am not sure if I can have any sort of friendship. It’s frivolous. What would it even consist of?”

“We can talk.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“But there’s more...” He fumbled with his words, his damaged arm giving him trouble as he tried to gesture. “I can show you.”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

Things had changed. The stakes had risen. The ice was thin.

“Oh,” Krillin said.

The cyborg was determined to hold his gaze, and to his credit, the small man did not look away.

“Can I ask you something then, Miss Juuhachigou?” His voice was shaky, close to breaking.

“Alright. If you don’t call me ‘ _Miss_ ’ anymore.”

There was something seeping into his eyes. Perhaps sobriety. “ _Juuhachigou_?”

“Yes?”

“Why...why did you do it? That _kiss_?”

She made another decision: “I thought it would be funny.”

* * *

 

She dreamed of him standing aglow besides the absurdly long _magical_ dragon. He wasn’t looking up, at it or at his friends, or down at the ground to mumble into his chest. No anger that clenched his jaw and startled her even before she saw what was in his hands. No fear that kept him petrified and wary. No sheepish embarrassment that kept his gaze turned away. Instead, he met her eyes, unafraid.

Instead, he had smiled, all confidence and shining eyes. Beautific, no timidity but instead and open truthful, and not at all bashful or ashamed. It was a Krillin she had never met but now he stood right before her. “It’s because I like you Juuhachigou.”

This felt like a dream now.

She had not had dreams for a long time. Not after being Changed. The eighteenth of Gero’s creations hadn’t needed sleep, during their freedom and search for Son Goku. Only lately, restless, could she close her eyes and fall into unconsciousness and what it might bring. But there _had_ been a nightmare, hadn’t there. And he’d been there, she had seen and heard him, from inside the Monster.

Security was a joke, even before she was changed. She had few memories of her past, and yet knew she could have found her way in with a smile and confident stroll at the very least. Juuhachigou could have slipped past any nurses or disabled any alarms and talked her way past any guards. But why should there be, now that Cell was dead? And who was the beaten man in that bed that should need any astringent security outside his door?

Who would seek to harm him?

Juuhachigou recalled a clammy, unclean feeling to her at odds with the sun heating her skin as she told her brother that about the bombs, feigning ignorance on his name, the ‘little old bald man,’ as though she hadn’t known what his name was. _I think his name was…what was it_. Kuririn. Her brother had been as unimpressed as always, Why would he do that? What would he have to gain? _I don’t know._ She hadn’t; she _had_. For once, her twin had less idea of what to do than she did. They were _free._ Whatever that meant.

Did her brother know where she disappeared off to lately? Juuhachigou thought he might have an idea.

This was freedom.

She was _choosing_ to come here. Krillin had no say in this. It was not his doing that led her here. He did not have the strength to affect her that much. He should not have any strength to rattle her, to weaken and confuse her.

That’s what shocked and unsettled her senses, lent a slight tingle in her fingertips that she hadn’t felt in so long...

The important thing, Juuhachigou told herself, was that she was choosing to come here. She could create her own purpose, even if it was meaningless, confusing nonsense that involved bothering Krillin. It was getting up off the couch and leaving her twin, and moving, and floating silently and waiting for the one she wanted to see. She was after all, still a huntress.

His eyes were black, all shiny pupil like a lake in the middle of the night. Was he afraid? Is that why his eyes gleamed so? “You look like a goddess, standing there. Just so you know.”

Idiot.

He had thrown himself at Cell, in that nightmare. Tears in his eyes, Juuhachigou can nearly imagine the sheen of them as he reckessly attacked, calling Cell a monster, risking his life needlessly, uselessly and for what? To avenge her? She had been dead, for all he’d known. And he couldn’t have fought the disgusting monster before he’d absorbed her brother. He could never have hurt the creature.

She could destroy him now, if she chose. In many ways. Bloody and graphic, a long slow death spent clutching ruptures and calling for doctors that would not be enough to help him. Would the others get here in time? She could cover his mouth to block out his cries. Krillin would freeze at her touch and by the time he understood what Juuhachigou was going to do, it would be too late.

And then she was in front of him as he lay on that bed, like she had in that different life, when all the power in the world was in her hands. This time she wore a plain black shirt, jeans, casual sneakers, and she couldn’t quite remember putting them as she finally left her pointless bed. The cyborg could have murdered or maimed him as she had the others. He was nothing, this Krillin who pled for his friend’s life, just another weak human that cowered and only defining characteristic compared to his friends was being smart enough to stay out of their way. Unless he dared to push his point, the little fool, who asked them to reconsider, how amusing that this weak creature would try to reason with them as though they were humans rather than machines.

Who was this odd diminutive man?

They didn’t need to do or say anything, and anything could have been said or done.

Somehow, his hands were touching her, clutching her shoulder, and she was not recoiling or breaking his hand for the audacity. He wouldn’t hurt her, Krillin. The man could not bring himself to do that, even when the entire world was at sake. He was foolish, selfish, delusional and weak. Krillin had no right to his feelings, especially not after what he’d done. After what _she’d_ done. How could he care and risk everything, for her? How dare he?

He wanted something from her. Or one thing, at least. No, no, more than that; Krillin wanted somehow more than just physical. Carnality would have been easy, to understand and be dealt with. Juuhachigou didn’t see wandering eyes with a hungry gleam, that mindless look she got from strangers. It was different. Krillin wanted to drag her down with him, to be as weak and pathetic, human, just like him. If she wanted, he would offer with a slightly clammy hand, shifting, gaze darting about to hide the hope there in those dark eyes, you know, if you wanted Juuhachgiou...

He clutched her. “ _Juuhachigou_.”

His hands were tangled in her hair and she tried not to think how long it had been since someone had done that and who it might have been—until Juuhachigou recalled that it may have been this man here. Something turned in her stomach, applied light pressure to her throat to cut her breath short. Her fingers were curiously numb. Pressed to his chest, she could feel his heartbeat and smell his skin in a dizzying moment of intimacy. She felt the tips of his fingers touching her earlobe, her neck, and hadn’t realized she could shiver like this. His prickly chin pressed into the top of her head, sliding down.

He could have done anything, and her heart nearly froze, recalling seeing him from the corner of her eyes as she stood there. Krillin had looked so angry; Juuhachigou hadn’t noticed the remote that had fallen from his hands at first. And when she had, she hadn’t run or attacked. He’d said something, spoken something nonsensical and she had waited _passive_ and _helpless_ as she had never been before. Had the positions been reversed, Juuhachigou was sure what decision she would have made in his place.

His mouth pressed into her forehead, and then she heard him whispering, “Are you okay? Is everything alright?”

Juuhachigou didn’t quite understand why she allowed it. Or any of this. It would have been easy to leave. Wouldn’t it?

“How can I help? Do you want my help? Miss Juuhachigou?”

So _this_ was Krillin as well.

Something left streaks of light along the walls, flickering. She was confused, not understanding what exactly they were or what they could have meant. A sign? Or what? It was not ki. But somehow Krillin must be responsible for the glow she saw. He had such odd tricks. He had such odd tricks to show her, ones that left her baffled and unharmed.

But no, they were simply reflections of lights from the fireflies outside.

* * *

 

He saw the balloon in her hand and laughed. Delight and relief. You came back! How odd to see someone look so pleased at her company. No one else certainly beamed at her, particularly non-strangers. That still startled her, and enjoyed the experiencing a pleasant surprise for once. A man that admired but did not drool or leer. Krillin was always happy to see her, exempting perhaps that one time. “Here to see me off, Miss Juuhachigou?”

The short fighter still wore bandages and his hospital gown. But clothes waited nearby, his usual bright gi, the usual dark blue shirt. Boots on the ground like obedient little pets. He looked better. Bruised but smiling. Maybe they had given him better medication? Oh, maybe, but he was healthy, he was alive and whole and – “Yes.”

“That’s nice of you.” He even had the small stuffed turtle, ready to go join him out onto the world.

_Miss_ Juuhachigou?

She was going to destroy him.

When she put her hands on his hips, he went ‘Uuh.’ Cornering him was as easy as she’d expected. His hands, small and pale and chipped, rose and fell. “Juuhachigou?”

“Uh. What are you doing?” _breathless._

“You,” she managed. “Are so _lucky_ you didn’t try to flirt with that red-haired alien.”

He giggled insanely, inanely. “Oh, oh, really…?”

It was simple to let go of the balloon, and let it drift free to hover overhead. It was also simple to flip up his hospital gown. Under his flimsy outfit he wore a pair of plain white boxers. She cursed his height and voice when it rose and cracked against the ceiling. If he had flirted with that red alien, Juuhachigou might still have done this but while also choking him. “Miss Juuhachigou. Juuhachi. We can’t. Juuhachigou!”

She nibbled his neck and felt him twisting, turning away. Her lips ghosted over his neck, followed by her teeth. A pressure point was found. “So shy.”

But she was tolerant of that.

“Someone might see.” His ass was dimpled and shoved against the wall. Tight and clenching when she grabbed it. There was a low growl.

“Or are you still too weak for this?” She nearly smiled. “You are still in this hospital.”

His earlobe found its way between her teeth.

Against her stomach, against her hand, was something else.

“Not for much longer,” was all he could manage to say. In regards to his hospital stay, or this, Juuhachigou couldn’t decide. As though he could stop her.

She heard him again, thanking her just as he had that other night. But now Juuhachigou would admit to understanding what he’d meant. Thank you. Thank you for being you, for that kiss, for being here, for letting me so close, for giving what you had, for not leaving forever, for existing and for being just you. _Thank you._

Should the nurses come to check on his health, she would be pleased to inform them that he was doing quite well. If she could manage the words. She suspected she couldn’t but also found herself unable to even try. At least it meant she couldn’t tell him she had thought kissing him there besides the road had been funny, but she had also thought he’d been both absurd and perhaps cute. She nearly forgot that she’d come here just to ask him out.

They slid down the wall together.


End file.
